


Choices

by geekmama



Series: Time of the Season [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: Sherlock and Molly go on a memorable shopping expedition._______________For the Free Choice prompt for May 20th of Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'Choices' prompt.
> 
>  
> 
> ***********************************

 

“ _Ribbed for her pleasure_.” 

“Trojan _twisted?_ ” 

“Red, white, and blue!” 

“Extra thin… hmmm.” 

“ _Warming?_ ” 

“Oooh, Kiss of _mint._ ” 

“Glow in the dark!” 

“Banana… “ 

“Bubblegum…” 

“ ** _Bacon?!_** ” they both said at the same time, overwhelmed and gaping at each other. 

If it had been difficult to keep a straight face before, it was impossible now. Molly gave a helpless snort and broke into a fit of giggles, her brows arching comically, and Sherlock grinned broadly, eyes alight and crinkling at the edges, though he chided, “Molly, choosing the right contraceptive is a serious business -- though God knows there’s not one of these that really sounds inspirational.” 

“Y-you mean you don’t absolutely lust for **_Bacon?_** ” she demanded, then covered her mouth against a peal of laughter. 

“It’s _you_ that should lust for it, presumably,” Sherlock said, still grinning. “But I take it you’re not keen on the idea.” 

“Oh, dear,” she said, fanning herself as she tried to stifle her laughter. “No, I don’t find bacon particularly sexy. Maybe chocolate?” 

“I’m sure they could accommodate you.” 

“You don’t sound very keen, either,” she observed, her laughter now subdued, though her dimples still charmed, as did the twinkle in her eye. 

“I’m not,” he admitted. “Actually, this shop, taken as a whole, is more of a _turn off_ than a _turn on_.” He looked about at the rows of shelving that held the widest assortment of sex paraphernalia in London, including the largest selection of condoms in the whole of Western Europe. He wrinkled his nose slightly as he turned back to Molly. “This isn’t what it’s all about,” he said, almost muttering now, wondering a little at himself, and wondering, too, what she might think of him for voicing such an opinion. 

But she saw what he meant immediately, because that’s who she was. Her laughter quite died away and she stepped close to him, placing a hand on his arm. “No, it’s not, is it?” she agreed, and suddenly she was blushing faintly, remembering the moments... interludes... _hours_ of bliss that had, in the last few months, bound them just as surely as the vows they would soon speak before God and man. 

Their wedding would take place in five days, on Saturday, at the little grey stone chapel not two miles from his parents’ home, where many years ago he’d attended with them, on occasion, to mark various holidays. None of his family was particularly religious, but setting aside belief in a higher power and his own pride in being a man of science, vows were something that he’d always understood deep in his soul. Additionally, in a ceremony that utilized text from the Book of Common Prayer, one might elect to err on the side of faith, so far as possible.  Atheism was as much a _belief_ as Christianity, after all… but possibly that debate was best pursued when he was not actually scheduled to stand with his bride at the altar in a few days. Molly would be most upset were he to be struck by lightning, as would their mothers. 

He almost gave a snort of laughter. 

“What?” she smiled. 

His laughter faded and he said, “It’s Saturday. Just thinking about it -- in a good way, of course. But I hate condoms, did I ever tell you?” 

She laughed again, but in sympathy this time. “Well, no, but it rather goes without saying, doesn’t it?  I don’t like them either, but what shall we do, then? We have to use something.” 

Sherlock frowned. They’d agreed that she should have her IUD removed before the wedding, though they’d had no plans to start trying to conceive immediately. Still, neither of them were getting any younger… 

The thought of trying was suddenly terrifying. 

Or was it? 

“Sherlock?” she said, suspicious. She waved a hand. “Hellooo…” 

“Do we?” 

“What?” 

“Have to use something?” 

The question was so weighted, so fraught, that it almost evoked the same feeling as that phone call -- but no, how ridiculous. The aftermath, maybe. After they’d dropped John off at his home and the car had moved on through the dank, grey dawn toward Molly’s flat, his destiny -- _their_ destiny -- seeming to hang by a thread… 

And obviously she felt the same. She had lost some of her happy color now, and was staring up at him, eyes wide and possibly a little frightened. 

The breathless silence held for long seconds. 

But then, finally she straightened, looked him in the eye and said, “No.” 

“No?” His heart, unaccountably, plummeted. 

“No. We don’t have to use something.” 

And instantly he was flying again, eyes widening, watching her lips quiver against another smile -- a very different one -- and saw her flush pink, fresh as spring. 

“Molly!” he managed, just above a whisper. Everything fell away as he moved, took her in his arms… she raised her face to his, like a flower to the sun, and only closed her eyes, lashes sweeping against the flawless swell of her cheeks in the instant before their lips met. The kiss was perfect, everything that could be wished, his tenderness a balm to her trembling eagerness, her body fitting against his as though it were made for this one purpose. His arms tightened about her, his fingers carding through her auburn hair a bit, and he matched her smile for smile. 

She drew away, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, and breathed against his lips, “I love you!” 

“Oh, my God,” he whispered, “I love you, too.” He moved then, his cheek against hers, and said low in her ear, “Let’s go.” 

He loosened his clasp and she reluctantly disengaged, looking up at him again with something like wonder. “Yes, let’s,” she said, and tucked her hand in his arm. 

He knew he had a fatuous smile on his lips, and, looking around, had to chuckle at a number of gaping faces and, indeed, at the strange and really very inappropriate venue in which they’d made their world-altering choice. He saw that Molly felt exactly the same, too, her shining eyes conveying her amusement without a word. 

They ignored everyone, customers and bemused sales clerks alike, as they walked through the shop and out into the London night. 

It was the dark of the moon, but the stars shone down, bright as diamonds, as they made their way home.

  
  
~.~


End file.
